


Simply A Waltz

by Mz Mephedrone (shaderunner)



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Romance, Ballroom Dancing, Banter, Crack Treated Seriously, Dancing, Dialogue, Emperor Kylo Ren, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Style, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, Force Bond (Star Wars), Gen, Humor, Hux Has No Chill, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Disney, Inspired by Studio Ghibli, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Kylo Ren and Rey Are Not Related, Love/Hate, Not Serious, POV Rey (Star Wars), Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Post-Star Wars:TLJ, Pride and Prejudice vibes, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Undue Seriousness, Unspecified Setting, Waltzing, what are these people supposed to do when there's no WAR? just dance? JUST DANCE?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-06 07:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15880959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaderunner/pseuds/Mz%20Mephedrone
Summary: ⚔| C O M P L E T E | ⚔♦︎ SHORT FIC | CAMP | ROMANCE | OU-TOPOS  ♦︎Kylo Ren refuses to dance at his own coronation. Is it because he can't? Or does he have other reasons... Rey makes it her personal mission to find out. The war is over, after all. And what else is there?Join The New Supreme Leader & his flame as they waltz amidst petty grievances, music & light.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse any typos or inconsistencies! They shall be vanquished! In due time.  
>  **Comments appreciated, but not necessary.** This is just a tidbit I wrote for fun. n__n

In the great hall of the New Supremacy’s galactic, space surfing citadel, a magnificent ball is held to celebrate Kylo Ren’s coronation as the new Supreme Leader. (Snoke be damned—they shot each half of his gargantuan body into the stars and Supreme Leader _Ren_ wasn’t even there to see it.)

Here, splendor, like the cosmos, knows no bounds. The ballroom shimmers with moon glow LEDs and bejeweled gowns. While the nobility partake in light drinking, their wears drink in the light, and there is merriment abound. And when the wine is gone at last, a dance gets going. Center to the ballroom is a lavish garden terrarium around which the cortege begins to covert. The court staff and service droids watch from the wings, and on the farthest side of the ballroom, his excellency Kylo Ren ducks into a niche by the ballroom doors. The plant he is standing behind only half subdues his face, and his ensemble is far too dark to be mistaken for vegetation, so he musn’t truly be hiding, or else that would be enormously stupid. Yet Rey is familiar with this juvenile and utterly futile exercise, having made the attempt herself just minutes ago—and it wasn’t long before she was found out by an unusually disgruntled C3PO.

“How uncouth!” He’d exclaimed. “A lady of your stature should be congregating with the guests. The Princess would never have—“

Rey brushed back the nightfern and hissed, “I’m not playing parlor games and I am _not_ Leia Organa. Besides, I have no part in this!”

“Oh nonsense,” the protocol droid began. But Rey would not be swayed by his protests. She crossed her arms defiantly, causing her gloves to pucker at the elbows.

“I don’t belong out there,” Rey grumbled, looking through the foliage at the glimmering party. “Can you imagine?” she said in a silly, pompous accent. “A scavenger girl in the court! Among ladies?"

Rey stepped out from behind the potted plant and curtsied.

“At least you can bow like one,” said C3PO.

Rey rolled her eyes. She then peered at the happy guests as they whirled around in pairs. The tiles were the color of snow with flecks of.gold, which made the party look as though they were gliding among the clouds, bouncing upon sunbeams. Perhaps it would have been nice to join in the festivities… but unaccompanied? She sighed.

“I"ve never been to a ball before and I don't think I will again."

She was prepared to retire early, and just as she turned towards the exit, who should she spot but Kylo Ren sneaking about in her wake? Rey stopped just short of the flora, and peeling the petals back with a slim, silk hand, she gawked.

“What in heavens are _you_ doing?” Rey scowled, nose upturned. “Aren’t you central to all this? It’s _your_ ball.”

All Rey knew about human men was limited to five or six persons, and each seemed to have a penchant for ill-advised retorts. Yet Kylo Ren said nothing in response and he was resplendent in his silence. The young Supreme Leader wore a splendid indigo uniform. Although it was slightly medieval, it was a style that suited him well. He seemed to have lost the starry-night mantle, if not traded it for his dour expression. Rey took a step back and surveyed him despite herself.

“Hiding behind the bloodflowers indeed,” she said pleasantly, and gave him a well-ordered grin.

- _What an imbecile._

Kylo Ren returned her smile, but there was something about it that she didn’t quite like.

“Where were you going just then?” He asked, softly.

Rey blushed. In her indignant, discursive thoughts she’d forgotten about their— _the_ —bond that they shared. Of course. He could hear them. He could even read her aura if he so desired. But then that meant… Rey’s breath hitched as he came forward. She stepped back, and gasped in unfettered horror at the sensation of being caught in the crook of a sturdy arm when her stiletto was snagged in her gown. But, ah, stars—it was only C3PO again with that red appendage which had in its possession fully fledged motor skills. 

Rey averted her eyes as Kylo Ren strode past her. Where’d he come off being so… regal? Or was his graceful nonchalance an affectation fashioned for the occasion? He hadn’t been the very picture of grace in their previous encounter! And he’d just been hiding behind a plant! Why? She felt for his register, then stopped herself. She couldn’t use her power just to see what he was feeling, and certainly not for the benefit of her own curiosity. He may not have been able to contain himself, but she could. Thus Rey set to building a mental barrier immediately. She focused on the spray of silver stars beyond the high-arched viewports and found that she could work her mind like clay when provided the space, but it was too untamed and too raw to hold for long.

“If I may; I think there are better ways to spend the evening. Perhaps a dance—”

Rey’s barriers shattered.

“Oh, blast, C3PO,” she snapped, and spun round.

“Dear me,” said the droid, who’d begun to skitter away. “I didn’t mean to be such a bother.”

Rey scowled after him and she was prepared to give His Royal Highness his due diligence for that unwelcome, unwarranted chuckle of his, but then the band began to play a waltz, and as the music picked up, it lifted her spirits with it.

“That’s all right Threepio,” she murmured, as though he were still there. A faint grin played on her lips. “I don’t have a very good reason for standing about. Kylo Ren, on the other hand, has a perfectly good reason for hiding.”

She did feel for Kylo’s register then, and she was delighted to sense it pique as he turned to face her.

“Oh really?”

“Yes.”

“And what reason would that be?”

“You can’t dance.”

“And you can?”

“Better than you!”

Kylo Ren gave her a sideways glance.

“Yes, I’m sure the scavenger’s bonfire two step is all the rage on Coruscant,” he deadpanned.

“Excuse me?” Rey’s voice was shrill and incredulous.

“Did it bring the rains, Rey?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry your efforts were wasted.”

She glowered at him, but Kylo Ren continued to watch the procession unruffled, so Rey redirected her glare onto one of the golden statuettes that lined the ballroom stair. There were seven of them, all knights.

“Jakku’s remaining tribes were wiped out by the empire _you_ inherited,” she sniffed. “So that isn’t very funny.”

“No,” Ren admitted somberly. “But what’s even less funny…”

“Shut up!” Barked Rey. “I don’t want to hear another word.”

She placed her hands on her hips.

“If you’re so damned good at dancing, prove it!”

Kylo Ren clasped his hands behind his back and gave her a long, dark look.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

Rey bristled. He had a galaxy’s worth of things to prove—dancing was the least of it. Nevertheless, she had taken the bait.

“Come on,” she said, offering him her arm as she’d seen other ladies do. “Prove it.”

He refused her.

“It is because you can’t!” She said triumphantly.

“No.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Rey retorted, with a lilt to her voice.

Kylo Ren looked daggers into the dancing party.

“No,” he muttered. “It’s because I hate it.”

“Well then! I’ll just dance with someone else,” Rey huffed.

“Good.”

“Fine!”

He whisked away again, Rey too, and gathering her skirts, she slowly began to descend the staircase, picking out faces in the crowd. She saw her dear friend Finn, who had joined Rose in a friendly waltz. Rey stopped mid-step, heart caught in her throat. She didn’t know anybody else, just Poe, and he was looking on from one of the balconies alongside Leia... who had likely witnessed the whole thing. Mortified, she turned away. Then she turned evermore suddenly to reproach the brass bastard that pulled her arm, and that very bastard was not C3PO as she expected, but none other than The New Supreme Leader himself.

Rey bristled.

“Hold on,” Kylo Ren interjected. “Is that Hux coming our way?”

Rey swiveled around. It was. And he looked more cockled than usual. That wasn't saying an awful lot, but still. As she swiveled back, she thought it the perfect opportunity to have her arm back, yank it out of Ren’s grasp, and disappear into the crowd. But though he looked weasel-y with his hair slicked and his eyes becoming cat-like as they saw his admiral approaching, his grip remained firm.

“Let’s go,” he hissed, and proceeded to lead Rey down the remaining steps. If one could call it _leading._

“Go?” Rey hissed back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You wanted to dance. So _let’s_.”

“Dance?” Rey exclaimed. “I—you just want to avoid Hux!”

She might have been unable to break his grip, but she could very well make his foray into the crowd a trifle more difficult. She must have been a marvel, fighting him in that gown. If not for that, she might—no—absolutely would have clobbered him by now.

“Need I remind you what happened the day we met?” She said through her teeth. Alas it was too little, too late. Kylo Ren had harangued her onto the ballroom floor, and then—ah! By blast, they were waltzing. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ♛ AND **T H E | W A L T Z** CONTINUES ♚  
>   
>  Off they go! At least until Admiral Hux arrives. Kylo Ren must actually carry out his kingly duties, Hux hates being a person, Rey takes a mind trick too far, the guests are drunk on music. And barring that, nobody is happy about any of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse any typos or inconsistencies! They shall be vanquished! In due time.  
>  **Comments appreciated, but not necessary.** This is just a tidbit I wrote for fun. n__n

Kylo Ren did indeed know how to dance. And all that prattle about how he hated to do it. Rey had the courtesy not to blurt, “Bantha shit!” among their company.

One, two, three.

“My goodness,” She exclaimed, as her unlikely partner lead her in yet another turn across the marble. “When we were on Starkiller I’d have sworn you had two left feet!”

One, two, three.

Kylo Ren smiled lasciviously. In fact, Rey had never really seen him smile before this night, not truly, and their proximity of it made her skin crawl.

“You forget who brought you there,” he said in a low voice, like a snake into her ear. Rey was so overcome by this, she almost missed her step again. Lest she prove him to be the superior dancer, Rey made an expert move in the next.

“And I’ve bested you every moment hence without obstacle.” She laughed lightly. “Save your dire lack of skill, of course.”

Rey batted her eyelashes at him in a way that some might consider cruel.

One, two, three. Slide and feet together—

“Come now, Rey,” he whispered. “See where you are. Have a look and _then_ tell me who’s been ‘bested.’”

Rey kept her head turned when the waltz resumed. During the next dance, Kylo Ren observed her contentedly. For Rey was not one bit of a bad dancer herself. Actually, she might have been too good. She sensed what he felt, a pull, and a minute shift in The Force surrounding them. He could not seem to allow or reconcile it, and so after the final pivot, he steered her in the opposite direction and changed his footing.

“Why must you insist on leading this dance?”

“I am not,” Rey snapped. “I’m trying to get away from you without upset.”

Kylo Ren chuckled as they looped through a chain of fellow dancers. He looked thoughtful.

Ha! Rey suppressed a grin. He seemed pleasantly surprised to discover that she was well capable of keeping up.

- _Snake._

Rey enjoyed an inward smile at his expense—or so she thought—when, in a manner that chilled her, Kylo Ren returned the smile. A perfect imitation of it.

“You know, you’re not as progressive as you think you are,” he said.

One, two—

Rey scoffed. “Hmph, neither are you!”

Finally there came the crescendo and the prelude to a minuet slithered in after it. At the same time, Kylo Ren’s eyes had taken on a slitted, feline air again, but there was something behind them that stirred her. He was looking at her directly, and not unlike the way he had on Ahch-To as they brushed hands over the fire. He hadn’t since until this moment, and Rey found that she could no longer fight those eyes. So she had become lost in them.

Could it be that he’d simply been goading her so that—? Rey shook her head. No. He was a cruel, hateful, and fear mongering louse. Here was a brute of a man, a man who was every bit as hulking and hardened as he appeared on the outside, and yet he was so comely in his movements. Rey had heard of the canidae, beasts that were graceful as they were feral, but she never fully believed in the sentiment behind the tales. And yet…

The citadel ballroom was now brilliantly lit by a single orb hovering amongst a swirl of chrome embellishments that sprung forth in magnificent crystalline brumes from the lattice, and furthermore by the mirth of their guests. The ball was in full swing now. It had picked up a terrific momentum, thanks in no small part to the orchestra, who played so tremendously as to drive the party into a state of delirium.

Rey could barely venture a guess as to how many cortés they’d made around the mezzanine. It seemed that the act of dancing itself was like an anesthetic on the mind as well as the body, for not only did it appear to have blotted out the passage of time, but it lead her to forget about their argument altogether. Kylo Ren’s retort, if he’d had one to begin with, had likewise completely dissipated.

Admiral Hux had approached them during a lull in the festivities. He stood before them with his hands clasped behind his back in what Rey had come to realize was mock deference. The particularly well-defined twist in his brow suggested that he was anything but pleased to see them. It was as though his very mien held a grudge against his face for being attached to it. Truth be told, Hux had always struck Rey as being perpetually uncomfortable in his body at all times. But perhaps that was because His Royal Highness was watching him expectantly.

With his features assembled so, Kylo Ren resembled something gazing up from below dark, murky waters. He seemed to be waiting.

Admiral Hux ducked his head and muttered, “My liege,” and then to Rey, “My lady,” in what may well have been a stage whisper. Rey frowned, but Ren looked to be assuaged.

“Well?” He asked. “What is it then?”

Admiral Hux’s entire face began to knot.

“I regret to interrupt the Supreme Leader’s grand promenade,” he said dryly. The upper corner of his mouth was twitching at his much delayed repartee. “But you are needed on the bridge.”

They retained a more serious posture then, as their small, makeshift hearing turned toward whatever had occurred on command. Admiral Hux’s words (none of which ran by Rey’s ears) apparently had a pulling effect on Kylo Ren. And there he went, sweeping across the ballroom like a storm cloud.

Rey’s frown deepened. She liked being excluded even less than she enjoyed the Admiral’s company. She gathered her pearl colored skirts once again, and began to jet after them, her opal slippers nearly gliding over the ballroom floor.

“What is going _on_?” She barked. “I’ve a right to know!”

Hux turned first but managed to hold his tongue once Rey fixed him with a single determined glare. Kylo Ren, on the other hand… his eyes lingered on her so long Rey was all but short of kicking her shoe off and (favorably) hitting him with it. Somewhere that _hurt_. But then he came back down the stair with quick, furious steps, and stood before her—an imperial monolith draped in midnight blue.

“I won’t be long,” he started. A peculiar urgency crept into his voice. He even went so far as to try catching her hand, but Rey snatched it away immediately, the gloved thing huddled against her bare shoulder.

“Oh no,” Rey sneered. She was incredulous, her eyes blown wide with awe. “Do _not_ make this about dancing. _Don’t you dare_ turn this into another one of your ballroom capers.”

Kylo Ren looked severely disappointed. Rey considered his reaction via their bond, carefully replaying it in her mind, and came to the conclusion he was only being clever once again. So once she had secured a spot in his mind, she delivered the final blow. But the expression remained. It too arrived like a storm cloud, and wound up staying for the rains. His aura betrayed him and her five hundred fold: first she had misread him and now she had injured him. 

“If you must know,” he said quietly. “There’s been an attack on our stronghold.” And then he turned on his heel and disappeared behind a panel of chromatic glass.

He was only trying to assure her.

Rey stood a few marks from the far-reaching ballroom doors, frozen in place, along with her smile. She had beaten him at his own foul game and she felt rotten indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  ✺ A MOST **UNWELCOME** I N T E R L U D E ✺  
>  Rey stops dancing, but her thoughts don't. And all of them seem to lead back to Kylo Ren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> ...if only there were some type of WAR that might distract her...
> 
> As always, please excuse any typos or inconsistencies! They shall be vanquished! In due time.  
>  **Comments appreciated, but not necessary.** This is just a tidbit I wrote for fun. n__n

The orchestra picked up again, marking the opening of, still yet, another dance. One that Rey embarked on solo, taking wide, meandering steps up toward the left wing balcony. Here she would contemplate the many interloping parts of her psyche. She dove into the heart of her thoughts, the most prominent of which cropped up around the time she’d agreed to join Kylo Ren, when she had met the man within the mask. Yes, there was a man who was strikingly sentient beneath all that phrik. Rey felt her skin begin to prickle.

Why was she here and what did her involvement in all this mean? For the galaxy at large, of course, but moreover, for herself. She’d be loathe to admit she knew not the answer to either and thusly simmered in her opalline gown as she turned a pretty, albeit troubled face onto the many arched viewports. Ornate to the point of hideousness, they must have been approved by Hux. She’d never met a person with such a penchant for ornamentation—especially in his speech. But she could see this extended to the décor as well.

Kylo Ren might have smiled slightly at that. She sighed. Rey had a problem—a very real problem. She had a propensity for forgetting her purpose whenever Kylo Ren materialized into whatever space she currently inhabited.

As the dancing continued on the glittering mezzanine below, so too did Rey’s thoughts. They launched into kaleidoscopic somersaults of color across her mind’s eye. Purple, gold, black satin, and royal blue taffeta danced before her eyes. And as she closed them, so that she might better reach them with her feelings, in order to usher them in closer, they swiftly manifested as Kylo Ren. The black satin and blue taffeta his wears, the gold a gleam in his eye, the purple his aura. The slash of a midnight sky was the cape falling over his shoulders.

Rey gasped, for just then her heel caught in something soft. She squinted at that which she had tread upon, lifting the slippered foot to survey the thing wrapped around it.

- _Ah, blast. There you are._

The mantle  She stooped to gather it up, and balling it underneath her arm, spun toward the transparisteel once more, and huffed. But what had brought him to roost on the high balcony to begin with? Rey wondered if she might have a glimpse, if only she would—if only she could—bring herself to touch against his signature again. Alas, she found that she could not will herself to do it. All she could decipher were the red rims that pillowed her eyes. Rey, concluding that she much rather not contemplate their reason for being, attempted to remove herself from the details, and focused on the black beyond. She could ponder that one years from now when she looked back on their lives, her legacy, to count all the missteps that lead her down this path, and lead her to wonder: would it have made a difference had she not joined him?

At last something drew her mind away fully: a slow moving, monochromatic firework bursting in the reflection of her right temple. With her line of vision affixed now to the smear of debris that followed, Rey nigh convinced herself that she spied Kylo Ren looking through at her. She was all the more chilled as she remembered—those were _her eyes_ — _her_ eyes gleefully beholding the spectacle that had drawn the party below to the windows.

Rey felt fear creeping around her and the thing left an imprint on her as though it had secured her shoulder in it's firm grip. The party—they didn’t know. But Rey knew very well what would become of all this. She had watched the future unfold before her in the lift of the old Supremacy. Even now, she saw it clearly, like an image produced by camera obscura from somewhere deep within the recesses of her mind. And it was this that separated her from them all along. Former scavenger or not. 

As the party crowded around gold-lined viewports, Rey watched the altercation and ensuing starship massacre alone, wan as her pearl gown, and with that stupid, nuisance of a cloak tucked beneath her arm, which she was now meant to bear for the rest of the evening, if not for eternity.

Another chill swept through her then, though of an entirely other variety. It did not instill a mounting dread within her breast. Instead she felt rather piqued, but perhaps it was not all bad. After all, now it was merely Kylo Ren’s hand upon her shoulder.

“You anticipated an attack and decided to keep it from me,” she sniffed. His Royal Highness looked rather somber, if the viewport mirror was anything to go by. Like a prince of yesterday represented by precise brushstrokes and framed by gilded durasteel.

“No,” he said gently. “You chose for yourself not to look.”

Rey dropped her eyes when she first saw him, but now she raised them. And in his reflection she saw something that impelled her to face him. He seemed to find her ire in that moment to be quaint. Rey could see a softness forming in his face. Well, she would have none of it.

“What on Hoth are you talking about?”

Rey assessed him, but he was impossible, and so was she. After a moment’s wait, he at last replied.

“Our bond—my mind, Rey. It’s yours to explore.”

Rey realized something about Kylo Ren then; his eyes were an oculus with which he used to appraise the feelings of others rather than to reveal his own. She alone was able to understand him at a glance, if only she were to look.* And so Rey reassessed him, deciding this time to take a slightly different approach. She reached for him.

- _Why?_

- _You already know the answer._

Rey drew in her breath as he drew near. First he came for the mantle, and after having so gingerly swathed himself with it, he came for her looking as though he were the Prince of The Black, shouldering the constellations. And Rey, in her shining gown, a reflection of their light, allowed him to take her hand. Meanwhile the mezzanine was enraptured by bursts of colored light overtop the debris visible from their chrysalis of full-spectrum transparisteel.

The party interrupted only briefly as Admiral Hux announced a victory for The New Supremacy! Which was met, of course, with a joviality that was considerably pronounced by an ingurgitation of wine. His and Her Excellency made the scene, taking light, metered steps down the grand stair. They stood side by side, Rey’s fingers just brushing against Kylo Ren’s palm.

Who had they defeated? Ah, but it mattered not to the grand party. There was no threat! There was music and light. And the men in the masks were right there in the room with them. 

The crowd fell half a step shorter when they showed their reverence. They did away with the formalities fairly quickly, however, and Rey, feeling as though she’d been caught in the whirlwind of a fairy brood, was swept into their delirium. The orchestra resumed their colloquy with a fast tempo exchange among the woodwinds and strings. Kylo Ren took her arm again, but what—no ploy? Had he no ulterior motives? No clever words? No indeed. He merely lowered his head and bowed, the solemnest of expressions darkening his space-pallor, the already rather somber quality of his features. Finally he looked up at her in a manner so much like the way he had when she’d defeated him on Starkiller Base. He looked utterly wounded. Her breath hitched.

What would he ask of her this time? And would he come close to killing himself in his efforts to get it?

Much to her surprise he asked, “May I have this dance?” And much to her amazement, she said yes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  ❦・ THE FINAL MOVEMENT ・❦  
> Ultimately, Rey's dance with His Royal Highness comes to a standstill... at least for the time being. For no thing ever truly ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! This section is very short compared to the others, I know.  
> I was going to add to it, but it felt... superfluous. Sorry guys! Climactic this story is not.  
>   
> As always, please excuse any typos or inconsistencies! They shall be vanquished! In due time.  
>  **Comments appreciated, but not necessary.** This is just a tidbit I wrote for fun. n__n

Rey was so transfixed she could not feel the motion of her own body. Although they had danced earlier, this was a dance like no other. For she had agency in it. And Kylo Ren, he was different somehow. She’d be loathe to say how or why this was so. Rey was far from able to parse through the reasons. In fact, Rey’s mind was entirely absolved of thought as they swept down the mezzanine again. For within it there lived nothing but vigorous music and color. Some resembled what she’d seen previously that evening, but starker, and this time leading her along the ballroom. These colorful sensations had moved beyond a wink in her mind’s eye, long ago, and had come to be the dagger that ripped through the galaxy, right down to the very hall contained within this very vessel. It was not one she could mend, but one, perhaps, she could grow used to. Perhaps she was the one who had changed.

Rey took her ponderings with her as she glanced up at her dancing partner.

And one, two, three.

“Where did you go just then?” He asked her.

“Nowhere special,” Rey replied. “Certainly not behind the bloodflowers.”

One, two, three.

“Well, that’s obvious,” Kylo Ren returned. And he offered her a polite smile for a change, which Rey favored over the prior.

Rey wondered if this moment was at all ripe for repartee. Kylo Ren was a mercurial one, but he craved conflict, didn’t he? As much as she. Rey craved any morsel, but if she could concoct a  smidgen of her own, all the better.

“Seeing as you're so sure-footed,” she began carefully, “I was wondering if you might be interested in learning ‘the scavenger’s two step?’ Or would it be too unrefined for The Supreme Leader?”

One, two, three.

His Royal Highness considered this with an expression one might wear to a conference. Then he chuckled, just as she hoped he would. Just in the way she suspected that he would. She was getting to be a better dancer all the time.

“Maybe after the next war.”

"Well," she crooned. "What about tomorrow?"

And while Rey knew that he was simply making light of things, she also knew that he was not. Yes, she was becoming a better dancer by the minute. When the orchestra stopped at last, the pair went forward on the box, and Kylo Ren dipped her, and they were still as ever as they looked into each other’s eyes. They were both short of breath, perhaps he a little more than she. Nevertheless, in her mind’s heart, Rey knew she must enjoy this respite, however brief, before the whole damn thing got started all over again.

And so they waltzed aloft their world of stars and glass, he a dark planet and she the half lit moon in his orbit, swirling alongside the ceaselessly expanding galaxy.


End file.
